


Predictable

by m_writes



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Domesticity, Fluff, M/M, Married Sex, Rimming, season 8 doesn't exist lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-05 18:25:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17924000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m_writes/pseuds/m_writes
Summary: “I want to try something,” he says, rubbing Shiro’s thighs. “Do you trust me?”Shiro’s brow furrows in confusion, but he gives Keith an amused smile. “Of course,” he responds easily, because he does, of course he does.





	Predictable

**Author's Note:**

> Happy belated Valentine's Day, himawari! I'm sorry this is late - life happened and then writer's block happened and then I misread the deadline. But it's here now, and I sincerely hope you enjoy it!

Shiro’s realization that he was in love with Keith had actually been the most comfortable revelation he’d ever had in his life. It had reminded him of the math classes he’d taken at the Garrison, as unromantic as that sounded. He hadn’t really liked math for its own sake, but he liked how predictable it was - there were no mysteries, no unexplained phenomena; no puzzle went unsolved, as long as you were willing to put in the work to find the solution. For a young boy who had lost all his parental figures before he turned 18, and then a young man who was diagnosed with a degenerative muscle disease when he was supposed to be in the prime of his life, the predictability of math was a comfort, cold though it was. 

Realizing he loved Keith carried the same certainty as following a formula to its logical conclusion. He met Keith, and then he grew to like him, and then he grew to rely on him, and so on and so forth until one day he realized he could not imagine a future without Keith in it. It was as logical as the most basic math equation - one plus one is two, two negatives multiplied make a positive, and Shiro is in love with Keith. 

_Telling_ Keith he was in love with him, on the other hand, had been one of the scariest things he’d ever done - on par with his first day in the Galra arena, in a way, because in both cases he’d had no idea what the outcome of the situation would be. Miraculously, however, Keith had admitted the same to Shiro, and the easy comfort of his smile had been more convincing to Shiro than the words out of his mouth. It was evidence of even more predictability; one plus one is two, Shiro is in love with Keith, and Keith loves him back. 

In the years following the end of the war with the Galra, he and Keith have been able to build a shared life together, and with it a sort of familiarity. There are still plenty of curveballs, to be sure - life as a member of the Garrison carried with it a certain level of unpredictability even before alien empires and legendary defenders were thrown into the mix. But Shiro’s life with Keith, their life together, is full of a host of comforts Shiro had never had with anyone, not even Adam, and which he’d began to think he’d never get to experience. 

Consider, for example, their weekend routine:

Shiro wakes up on Saturday to the shill sound of his alarm, alerting him that it’s time to begin the day whether the sun is up or not. (Shiro appreciates some of the luxuries afforded to him outside of war, but other habits are a little harder to break.) Keith snuffles into Shiro’s chest for a moment before sighing and pushing up to plant a tired, sloppy kiss on Shiro’s cheek.

“Morning, baby,” Shiro says softly, running his fingers up Keith’s back. 

“Morning,” Keith responds. His voice is gruff and he still can’t open his eyes all the way, but he still rolls over to pull himself out of bed. Shiro watches him cross the room to their dresser, appreciating what he can see of Keith’s figure in the low light of their room. He lingers in bed like this nearly every morning, in part for the show itself and in part for Keith’s reaction. His husband looks over his shoulder, sly and sexy and confident in the fact that he’s being ogled. 

“See something you like?” he teases, his voice still just this side of sleep-rough, arching his back and allowing his hips to sway slightly. 

“Maybe I do.” Shiro is tempted, like he is every morning, to say to hell with their pre-dawn run and pull Keith back into bed with him. But he knows it’s a temptation he’ll never act on, because he knows how quickly a life of comfort and ease can be stripped away from you, and how important it is to be prepared for any eventuality. 

Lucky for him, Keith knows this too, because his only response is to laugh and toss Shiro’s jogging shorts at his face. 

“Come on, old timer. Maybe if you can keep up with me I’ll give you a prize.”

***

Shiro does keep up, like he always does, though if he’s being completely honest it’s something he has to work harder for every day. Shiro isn’t sure if he’s just getting older or if Keith’s Galra lineage is giving him some sort of advantage, because even though they’re both on the wrong side of 25 Keith only seems to be getting stronger. Even if he hadn’t just seen the evidence of this strength firsthand in the seemingly effortless way Keith had breezed through their run, he’d certainly be convinced by the way Keith is manhandling him at the moment.

Shiro can still feel the ache in his quads, the burn of his muscle fibers tearing and repairing themselves, which means the only thing keeping him from sliding to the floor is Keith. He’s got his hands around Shiro’s hips in a bruising grip, pinning him to the wall as he lavishes Shiro’s neck with attention. Shiro is panting, breathless from their run as well as Keith’s ministrations, and he’s holding onto Keith’s hair for dear life. 

This is an indulgence they don’t have time for every day, unfortunately - on weekdays their morning run is followed by coffee and showers and breakfast before they run out the door and into their responsibilities as the leaders of the Garrison’s two most powerful weapons. But Shiro finds he doesn’t mind, because that just makes their weekends all the more pleasurable. Sometimes Shiro likes to use their Saturday morning sex as an opportunity to re-learn Keith’s body, to see if there are any changes there that the busy week had allowed to escape his notice. Today, however, his exhaustion has stripped away his initiative, and he finds himself in one of his more desperate moods. 

“Please,” he gasps, his Altean hand reaching around to grab Keith’s ass and pull them closer together, “please, Keith.” He doesn’t even know what he’s begging for, specifically, all he knows is that he needs _more_.

Keith quells Shiro’s desperate pleas by turning his attention back to Shiro’s mouth, capturing it in a slow, filthy kiss. 

“Shhh,” he soothes as Shiro continues to pant helplessly. His thumbs are rubbing soft circles into Shiro’s hipbones even as he presses the pads of his fingers into the curve of Shiro’s ass in a bruising grip. “Let me take care of you, baby.”

He barely waits for Shiro to nod enthusiastically before diving back in for one last kiss. Then he’s pushing off the wall and pulling Shiro back to their bedroom, taking the initiative to discard their clothes along the way. 

Usually, when Shiro is feeling exhausted and Keith wants to dote on him and they have what seems like all the time in the world, the sex goes like this: Keith will lay Shiro back, following him to claim his mouth for a moment before pulling away again. Keith will reach over to their bedside table, making sure to warm their lube before spreading it onto his fingers. Keith will finger Shiro to within an inch of his life, waiting until Shiro is incoherent with need before slowly pushing inside and taking Shiro apart all over again. 

It’s predictable, sure, but it’s no less pleasurable for its familiarity, and Shiro never gets tired of it. He can already feel his dick start to harden with anticipation as Keith pushes him down onto their bed, but instead of leaning over to continue kissing him, Keith stays upright, kneeling between Shiro’s legs. 

“I want to try something,” he says, rubbing Shiro’s thighs. “Do you trust me?”

Shiro’s brow furrows in confusion, but he gives Keith an amused smile. “Of course,” he responds easily, because he does, of course he does. Keith gives him a small smile, bending down to kiss his stomach. 

“Turn over.” He whispers the command with his lips still against Shiro’s skin, then sits back and squeezes Shiro’s thighs in encouragement. 

Shiro turns over obediently, but he’s slightly disappointed. No sex with Keith is bad sex, really, but on days when they can afford to take their time he prefers to see Keith’s face. He loves being on all fours for Keith, loves when Keith just uses him and takes what he needs, but he usually associates that type of sex with the times when they’re feeling rushed or impatient - like at the end of a long day, or once, memorably, in a broom closet in the middle of a gala. 

Still, he trusts Keith, and if this makes him happy then he’s willing to indulge. They don’t have any plans today anyway, and Shiro thinks that he’ll probably be able to talk Keith into another round of slower sex later - but all of his thoughts skid to a halt when Keith spreads his cheeks and lowers his mouth. 

They’ve never done this before. Keith has mentioned it, at some point, in the various conversations they’ve had about what they like in bed and new things they’d like to try. But Shiro had thought he’d have some advance warning; at the very least a chance to thoroughly - _thoroughly_ \- clean himself first. The logical side of his brain is preoccupied with the practicalities of the situation - he’s objectively disgusting right now, sweaty from their run and their foreplay in the hallway, and he dimly thanks whatever higher power he thinks might be watching over him that he showered last night. But the more animalistic side of his brain, which also happens to be the one in control right now, is just a litany of _more, more, more_.

“ _Keith_ ,” he gasps, gripping his sheets for dear life. Keith apparently has no regard for Shiro’s messy state, because he’s working his mouth over Shiro’s hole with an enthusiasm rarely seen. Shiro, too, is overwhelmed by how much he’s enjoying this - he presses his forehead into the mattress, pushing his ass back even as he begs himself not to come on the spot. Shiro can fee Keith moan at his eagerness. The vibration sends shivers up his spine and straight through his cock, precome dribbling out the tip and onto their sheets. He whines at the loss of contact when Keith pulls away, though Keith makes sure to replace his mouth with his thumb as he gasps for air.

“You’re so good for me,” he breathes. He pulls Shiro’s cheeks open and kisses his hole, sloppy, as if he can’t get enough of the taste. “Do you like this, baby? Do you like being dirty for me?”

Shiro drags his face over the sheets in some semblance of a nod. He tries to speak, but Keith has rendered him completely incoherent - all he can manage is a shaky moan. He can feel Keith grin where his mouth is pressed against the curve of Shiro’s ass.

“Good boy,” he says, voice low, biting Shiro’s cheek and soothing it with another open-mouthed kiss. He spits on Shiro’s hole before diving back in, his ministrations a little more desperate from before. It’s filthy, it’s so, _so_ filthy, and Shiro can’t get enough of it. His face burns with how much he loves this. He frantically scrambles for one of their pillows, biting at it in an effort to quell the moans that are threatening to escape.

Keith must notice this, because he makes a displeased noise and slaps Shiro’s ass lightly in punishment. “None of that, now,” he says, reaching up to grip Shiro’s hair. He only pulls it hard enough to get Shiro’s mouth to detach from the pillow, not nearly enough force for Shiro’s ridiculously high pain tolerance. But Shiro already feels like he’s ready to shatter, and even this barest of threats is enough to break down the last of his walls of self control. 

“Keith!” He moans, long and loud, pushing his ass back in a wordless plea. “Keith, _Keith_ , I need - I need -”

Keith lets go of his hair and returns to his position behind Shiro, squeezing Shiro’s cheeks and letting his nails dig in. “I’ve got you, baby,” he soothes, the sweetness of his voice belied by the filthy way his tongue laves over Shiro’s hole.

Shiro loses track of time, he loses track of _himself_ , as Keith methodically and enthusiastically takes him apart, his moans growing louder and more high-pitched the more vigorously Keith fucks into him with his tongue. Minutes or seconds or days later, when Keith has wound him up so much he can’t even bring himself to yell his husband’s name, Keith pulls away to speak.

“Can you come from this?” he asks breathlessly. Shiro forces himself to push up enough to look over his shoulder. Keith’s hair is wild, his face flushed and his lips red with a sheen of spit coating his chin. It’s objectively disgusting, but it’s also one of the most erotic things Shiro has ever seen in his life. He could come on the spot, just from the sight of Keith all messed up solely for the sake of Shiro’s pleasure. But he wants to come with Keith’s tongue inside of him, so he just nods, pushing back wordlessly.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Keith swears reverently, and he dives back in again. He’s sloppy in his desperation, no finesse at all as he tries to bring Shiro over the edge, and Shiro _loves_ it. He comes with a shout, shoving his ass back at Keith’s face in a desperate attempt to milk every last ounce of pleasure out of Keith’s mouth. Keith continues to work him over, patient, until Shiro is whining with oversensitivity. Only then does Keith allow his own desperation to take over, he grabs Shiro by the shoulder, roughly turning him over so he can straddle his chest. 

“You’re so good for me, baby, so good,” he says, breathless, frantically working his cock. He sighs when he comes, painting Shiro’s face and neck with his release before finally flopping over.

Shiro lays there, panting and boneless, trying to catch his breath. Keith stirs first - he’s always the first to come back to himself after sex, a fact which both arouses and annoys Shiro, because he can get it up much more quickly for a round two. He wraps himself around Shiro, careless of their mess, and peppers Shiro’s pecs with kisses.

“If you want to go again,” Shiro manages, running the fingers of his left hand through Keith’s hair, “I’m going to need more than a few minutes. You completely wrung me out.”

Keith laughs and rests his cheek on Shiro’s chest so they can look at each other. Shiro is always breathless with the way Keith looks at him - managing to convey so much sweetness even after he’s so thoroughly taken Shiro apart. He would never admit this to anyone except Keith, but this is his favorite part of sex: not the act itself or even the orgasm, but the afterglow, when he and Keith are soft and loose and happy and so very, very in love. He strokes his thumb over Keith’s cheek, suddenly overcome with emotion. Because even when Keith surprises him, veers from more predictable waters into something new, Shiro is secure in the fact that he is always guided by a desire to make Shiro’s life a happy one.

“I love you, Keith.” His voice is just a little bit shaky, and Keith must hear it, because his eyes go even softer. He pushes up to press their lips together; chaste, sweet.

“I love you too, Takashi,” he whispers. And as much as Shiro loves hearing those words, he loves Keith’s smile more - soft, certain. 

Predictable.


End file.
